Love her or hate her, Sophie Cunningham won't be ignored - ESPN

FOR A MOMENT before The Moment — no, not that one; the other one, the one that started it all — Sophie Cunningham considers exercising restraint.

Her team is fine. The Fever are up by 17 over the Sun, and there are only 46 seconds left in this 2025 game that long ago went off the rails.

Her teammate is fine. Caitlin Clark took a finger to the eye in the third quarter, courtesy of Connecticut guard Jacy Sheldon. But Clark's final act before calling it a night and retreating to the bench was to drain a 3-pointer, which put the game well out of reach with a few minutes left. So, advantage, Clark.

This is all fine, Cunningham thinks, as she runs the length of the court. She's chasing after Sheldon, of all people, who has just stolen the ball for a fast break, and Cunningham tells herself she doesn't have to foul. She can let this go, can let Sheldon go, because everything is f...

F--- it.

Her sister, Lindsey, watching at home in Missouri, can hear Cunningham's resolve snap all the way from Indianapolis. «No, no, no, no, no, no, no,» Lindsey prays. «And… there it is.»

There is Cunningham, throwing her arms outward, then wrapping them around Sheldon's neck in what could charitably be described as a bear hug, but more accurately, a headlock. She slams Sheldon to the floor, and all that's missing is a top rope.

These late-game theatrics — the pro-wrestling bluster disguised as flagrant foul, her ejection, the scrum that breaks out after the takedown — are not, it turns out, the end of anything. They're the beginning of everything.

In the year to come, Cunningham will have a billboard outside Madison Square Garden, star in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, moonlight as a ring girl at UFC 329, receive her own colorway on an